Tiffany Towers Made Dreams Come True
I’m not sure if people these days have someone like Tiffany Towers. Oh, I'm sure they do. But it’s not likely the same. I’m talking about someone who ushers you either into puberty or through it. I’ve talked about Danni Ashe, Pandora Peaks, and SaRenna Lee and what they meant to me and how they helped stoke the fires of my young imagination. But then there were stacked wet dreams like Tiffany Towers.
While the others inspired me, Tiffany did hardcore and showed me what was possible.
In other words, Tiffany Towers showed me what sex was. I had been fascinated by massive knockers, but it wasn’t until I saw Tiffany Towers getting railed, those ginormous fake knockers ricocheting about and that blissful smile on her lips, that I understood. It wasn’t the first time I saw someone fucking, but it was the first time that I realized the things you could do with watermelon-sized fake gazongas, besides feeling or motorboating them.
The infamous beach video is enough to turn anyone into a melon felon. Look at the body, those immense knockers, and that jaw-dropping tits-to-waist ratio! Even better are the tan lines, which if you notice she doesn't have any above her waist.
But most importantly, it's how Tiffany seems to be truly enjoying herself. So many models would use this moment to be serious or "sexy". What I love about this era of big-titted models is how they treated being sexy as goofy fun. But few nailed this feeling quite like Tiffany who made a simple shirt lift an erotic tour-de-force.
ABSOLUTE CINMEA! Surely this is why Gilligan never got off that island.
Don’t get me wrong, one look at Tiffany and you felt your fingers itching to cop a feel. It wasn’t just the size of those mammoth milk tanks-it was the kind of implants. A lot of early 90s implants were the stereotypical spherical, bolt-ons. But Tiffany’s were squishy, almost real-looking. This is partly because she was already quite busty before the implants. Like Denise Milani, Tiffany merely added more clay to the already impressive sculpture.
But what separated Tiffany from the others was the wild, horndog, simmering sexpot that radiated from her smile. Like Wendy Whoppers, Lisa Lipps, and others, Tiffany Towers was the kind of dancer and model that when you saw her you knew she liked to fuck and fuck hard. Or at the very least, that was the impression she gave off.
It’s not that I didn’t think about sex with Danni, SaRenna, and Pandora. It’s that with Tiffany I began to understand sex and what I wanted to try. The things I had thought about seemed taboo until I saw people do them with Tiffany. It may sound funny, but I honestly thought I was the only person in the world who thought about literally fucking a mammoth pair of silicone funbags. What Tiffany did was help me put what had been previously only imaginary, breathless scenarios into flesh-and-blood reality- and what a reality! WOOF.
Sometimes you have to make your own clothing. All jokes aside, the simple grip-framing and act of ripping her shirt, shows the genius of Tiffany. She's hardly being lazy but she also knowns when not to get lost in the aesthetics. Also, Tiffany with short hair? Fucking unfair!
You look at any photo set or video, and you'll sense a carnality mixed with a genuine sense of fun. Before there was Angela White, there was Tiffany Towers. Watching a Tiffany Towers sex scene never felt dirty or shameful; it felt freeing. With Tiffany, you felt desire and lust, and what’s more, she made you feel okay for feeling it.
Not that others didn’t make me feel that; it’s merely that Tiffany happened to be the first. My melon felon journey went from being on dusty paths through the backwoods to a paved sidewalk through Main Street. Tiffany Towers cemented my love of women with big tits, and I haven't looked back since.
SaRenna and the others had ignited a burning appreciation for the aesthetic. They had instilled a wonder and a lust towards a kind of shape and personality, giving me a faint outline to trace my fantasies around. But with Tiffany, these desires became three-dimensional, something primal; the thoughts were less abstract, more direct.
The phrase fantasy made flesh is used a lot, but in Tiffany’s case it's apt. She made my fantasies flesh, and I was never quite the same afterwards. How could I be once I saw those blue eyes glaze over with orgasmic bliss? Performance or not, I was a changed man seeing someone built like Tiffany Towers want sex as much as I did.
Tiffany looked like she should be on "Baywatch," but Standards and Practices wouldn't allow that kind of bounce on Primetime. A walking Barbie doll with her insane physique and those impressive, squishy tits. Tiffany's implants were something else. I have nothing against your typical fake tits, but Tiffany Towers was on par with SaRenna Lee's in terms of perfection and audacity.
You didn't want to merely touch them; you wanted to smother them.
Oh sure, I had seen countless magazine shoots of big-busted ladies engaging in girl-on-girl. Few things activated me quite like seeing two gigantic pairs of surgically enhanced warlocks smashing against each other, nipple against nipple. But Tiffany...Tiffany was the first one I saw with a man, and that sparked something inside of me.
A Canadian blonde bombshell, Tiffany, like a lot of racked and loaded models of that era, had a girl-next-door approachability with a bod made for unholy sin. Unlike so many models, her hair wasn't peroxide blonde; it was natural, even if she wasn't. Those blue eyes shimmered with a lust and a mischief that left any man weak-kneed and panting.
Image #1: I had always dreamed of doing this. Without any visual confirmation, it was an act I had thought about, but buried the desire deep inside. Seeing Tiffany do this was a revelation, an understanding that I wasn't alone. To say nothing of how heart-poundingly steamy the sight is: she's so big you can barely see his manhood! Image#2: This is less of a taboo desire, but Tiffany was the first woman I ever saw give a blowjob. It didn't unlock anything really, but Tiffany groping herself as she gave oral reminded me that sex was something people did together and not something done to another person.
But it was seeing the heaviest of heavy hangers flop about as Tiffany rode a man that showed me the light. Yet, it wasn't just the recoil on display; it was the ecstasy on Tiffany's face. An act, yes, but there was something about that expression of carnal lust that pushed me over the edge to the point of no return.
Tiffany Towers made it all look so easy. You look at her work, and she feels so natural, as if it's all real and not a fantasy. For Tiffany, the art of the feminine was less of a performance and more of an expression of the qualities of femininity she admired most. By all accounts, her sweetheart personality was anything but an act and was such a pleasure to work with; every model worth their salt tried to do a project with her.
Like Mickey Mantle, Tiffany Towers was not just the peak but a beacon for other models. There's perfecting the art of the tease, and then there's embodying the notion of desire. Every at-bat with Tiffany, you were either guaranteed a hit or a walk, but usually a home run. Seeing those amazing hooters bounce when she ran-that's where I fell in love with recoil cinema; seeing her run on the beach. Eat your heart out, Bo Derek.
But unlike so many others, with Tiffany the sincerity seemed genuine. Look, a lot of models know how to smile, but seeing Tiffany smile was like seeing the sun after a storm.
But if her smile could power a New York City block, it was nothing compared to her smolder. GOD. DAMN. Tiffany Towers turning it on and looking at the camera is the kind of thing movie stars used to be able to do. It's a look reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe, pure sex. We look at her; it's the way she looks at us that reduces us to drooling puddles of uselessness.
Combine that larger-than-life personality with one of the largest busts of the time, and you’ve got yourself 5 foot 3 of pure sexual dynamite. And boy howdy did she know how to set a charge. Tiffany Towers was the kind of woman that left an imprint on you in a way that seeped into your psyche.
Her gentle, sweetheart demeanor mixed with her sexually charged exhibitionism made her perfect for her partnership with legendary pornographer, Seymour Butts. Butts pioneered a new era of gonzo porn using handheld cameras; the ripples of his experiments can still be felt to this day. These videos call to mind Cassavetes films in how they feel gritty and raw.
Like Cassavettes, they are obviously staged and carefully rhearsed, but they feel real.
Seeing the rack-tastic girl-next-door Tiffany Towers in that kind of setting is a mind melter on the level of watching a Cronenberg film. If you weren’t a melon felon already, seeing Tiffany in one of Seymour's films would make you one. Yet, it loosened another brick in the wall that seemed to seperate the big-bust dancers and the rest of the world. In Seymour Butts's videos you saw the likes of Tiffany Towers, Holly Body, and Wendy Whoppers out clubbing. You saw them in the real world.
These dancers were at once works of art while also being bone-deep working class. They weren't fitness freaks, mainly because the amount the day-t0-day grind of planning, rehearsing, and nailing a dance routine is a workout in of itself. And they did it in heels with at least five to ten added pounds on their chest!
The sweat. blood, and tears that went imto this line of work weeds out the fame hungry and the lazy pretty quickly. The cream of the crop, like Tiffany Towers, rose to the top, not with ease, but with hard work and excrutiating hours. I called Tiffany Mickey Mantle, partly because I love baseball as much as big, ripe melons. But also because being a feature dancer/model during the big-bust era was a lot like playing in the majors. You had to put in the work or else get busted down to the minors.
From left to right: Image#1: Tiffany's O-face" is a thing of orchestrated beauty. It's probably the least natural thing about her-aside from those gazongas. Yet, as staged as it is, there's something nakedly pure about it. Image#2: The smolder. Only a handful of models could give the camera the smolder as Tiffany could. It's a look of sheer, intense sensuality that threatens to melt the page the photo is printed on. Image#3: A woman groping herself is always hot. But seeing one hold her knockers like an offering? HOT. Image#4: This is what I mean about the artistry of Tiffany's implants. They look so real, the way they bulge out from the pressure of her hands. The clenched fists also add a layer of something indefinably tantalizing about the photo.
The wild thing about Tiffany is how, despite being iconic, she was only a fraction of the star she could have been because of her Canadian status. That’s right, you can be so legendary as to be on the Mount Bustomore of perfect gazongas and yet still have a bitch of a time getting a work visa.
Tiffany got a reduction and retired in the early aughts, partly because of ruptured implants, and partly because, aside from being one of the sexiest, most fascinating, and legendary big bust dancers of the era, she was also a passionate conversationalist. In Tiffany’s case, elephants were her passion. A fact I learned about later in life and which is notable to me because, for most of my young life, I wanted to be a zoological veterinarian.
Like I said, I'm sure other people have their own Tiffany Towers. But even if they do, it doesn't dimish Tiffany's legacy or her inarguable talent and artistry. For there is only one Tiffany Towers, which is a shame. We could always uses more like her.
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